LOST drabbles
by Lola'sStillLOST
Summary: Very short form stories, either drabbles or four sentences long, eight sentences long... you get the drill. This time: a quick fic for a word of the day challenge- the word being Protagonist.
1. Playing the role of me tonight is

For Sawyer it's a sick thrill that rolls through him when the game's over and he's won: _Their _money in his hands, another pretty sucker who gets that he isn't who she thought.

To Kate it's unseen eyes on her _everywhere_; being tracked, hunted. Intoxicating stuff for a girl who's never meant much to anyone.

Jack feels it like an out of body experience when he gives bad news. He prays the family will think his hurt is for their loved one. They _can't_ know it's him facing down Failure.

Sometimes Hurley's dizzy with it, walking into the walls of his McMansion, hearing his mom and dad laughing together. This is _not_ my beautiful house….

For Charlie, rehearsals send him there: Watching roadies set up their gear like precious relics. _I _did this. Lee and I. They play some Beatles first, to loosen the fingers and aim for something bigger than them all.

Oceans away a quiet, patient soul who is not quite man and not really a god stands in a lighthouse and spins a wheel. He wishes he could explain it's not in their heads; that though they feel as if they're in a play…. they are anyway.


	2. Ten Nine Eight

**This is more short story than drabble, but it's just a little holiday fluff so putting it here. Did you know which day of the year it was that the Oceanic 6 climbed aboard Penny's boat?**

* * *

"We have to talk," Jack told Penny the minute they climbed on board The Searcher and even though it was the middle of the night and they were all exhausted, that's exactly what they did.

They talked until long after the sun was up, and Penny's face had fallen a dozen times as she heard the horrible things they'd been through. Her eyes shot to Desmond's again and again, asking silently if it were all true and all he could do was kiss the top of her head, or pull her in and whisper in her ear, 'it's okay, we're all right. We're all right now."

There were some moments of peace, too. They slept in shifts until Penny's crew could arrange accommodations for eight unexpected visitors, then they all napped. When they woke up at sunset there was food set out – just simple sandwiches and pitchers of cold water and bottles of beer, but she had to fight back tears at the wave of relief that had washed over them when they saw it, how all conversation ceased and they'd dug into it like it was a holiday feast.

"He's kind of a bitter pill, isn't he?" she'd whispered to Desmond, nodding all the way to the other end of the table where Jack had downed some food fast and was looking on edge again - like any minute he'd suggest getting back to work on their story.

"He means well. Just a worrier," Desmond had shrugged, smiling, "And after the last three months, I can't say as I blame him. There's plenty to worry about."

"Right enough," Penny got up, squeezing his shoulder. "But not tonight."

She'd disappeared downstairs and when she came back her crew was hauling a couple of more cases of beer with them. That got a resounding cheer from Frank and Sayid and Hurley, a laugh from Kate and even a smile from Sun.

"You could use one of these. Or maybe three," Penny sat next to Jack when he started to refuse the beer she'd handed him. "Not going to make me drink alone, are you?"

"Thanks," he said, but it sounded forced. "It's just… these people, they're not messing around. We have to figure this out, have to be ready – what if…"

"You're safe here," Penny said and she saw him crumple a little at the word she knew they all needed to hear, his eyes shooting to the floor. "You're all safe. And we'll figure it out. But who knows? Maybe it'll go even better if we give them tonight to unwind- to _not _think about it."

"Maybe you're right," he sat back, nodding, and Penny smiled as the little thundercloud that had been hanging over his head evaporated. "You know what, maybe you're right."

The only talking after that consisted of light chatter: Frank telling his piloting stories, Hurley telling jokes, everyone sharing what they were looking most forward to at home. Their voices, their laughter seemed to fill the ship and echo off the water, and for a few hours it kept the big, dark open sea and all their fears at bay.

A few hours later Penny noticed Desmond had slipped away. She went in search of him, found him in the shower in her room, the small quarters very foggy from the hot water.

"What in the world are you doing in there," she called in, then shut the door with a laugh when he reached a hand out through the shower curtain and 'tutted' at her mock-sharply.

"Get out," he called. "It's a surprise. Don't ruin it..."

"Sorry," she walked around her room, killing time as she heard the water stop. "Des, why do you have a bottle of champagne here? After all that upstairs, I'm not sure I really need.…."

Penny stopped in mid-thought, gasping at the sight of Desmond emerging in pajama bottoms, whiskers gone, running a towel over his head.

"You look like you!" She reached up to ruffle his freshly cut, short hair, to kiss his naked cheek. "Don't get me wrong, I love you however I find you, but oh… you look like you now."

"Thought you'd like it," Desmond tossed the towel over one shoulder and reached for the bottle of champagne. "As for this, I really think we really must- even if it's just a sip…"

"It's New Year's Eve!" Penny exclaimed, as it finally hit her.

"Exactly. And more to the point, it's 11:58pm on New Year's eve," Desmond sat on the edge of their bed and started peeling the foil off, patted the spot next to him for her to sit. "Oh, correction. Now it's 11:59pm. You have excellent timing, my dear."

"Any resolutions this year?" she asked as he tossed away the foil and pointed the bottle away, thumb poised to pop it open.

"Just the one I gave you when you found us last night: To never leave you again."

"I'm holding you to that," she said. "You don't have to wait 'til midnight to open it, you know."

"Just a superstition of mine," he said, eyes on his watch. "Thirty seconds… twenty…"

"Do you think they're realized it upstairs? I wonder if they know…" A suspenseful little buzz of laughter made its way down the stairs. "Yeah, I think they do."

"Ten… nine." They heard the countdown start from the deck above and Penny laughed but Desmond shivered, frowning.

"How can you be cold?" She asked, running a hand on his arm. It's a hundred degrees in here.."

"Not cold, just… them counting down made me think of…. I'll explain later," he shrugged, jostling the cork as she braced for the 'pop'.

"Five… four…. three… two… one…"

The cork flew and the champagne flowed and they passed the bottle back and forth a couple of times in contented silence, listening to their friends whoop and cheer, eyes glued on each other.

"Happy New Year," Desmond whispered as Penny took the bottle and set it on the nightstand and put her head on his shoulder and pulled him in tight.

"Happy New Year, love."


	3. How Do You Know Me?

"Not a pathetic orphan..."

The first words in her head: "Not an orphan anymore."

"_Alex, this… is your mother."_

She'd always known he wasn't her father. He_ is_ her _dad_. She loves/hates him. That trumps biology.

Mom doesn't hug her like she'll die if she doesn't. That's good, it'd be too much.

They're both shaking.

Fingers run over her hair, her face.

Am I what you thought I'd be? Have you missed me? Am I good enough? Am I pretty? How did you know me? Do you love me? Mom?

"_Will you help me tie him up?"_

Yes.


	4. HIM

"_No!"_

The logs are floating. They're bad. Trouble. Change.

The people push the logs until they are red in the face, swearing when they stumble. They push HIM further away.

Oh… no. No…

He runs, legs digging, swimming, salt water stinging.

"_Others, Walt… Others….NO!_

"Vincent! Go back!"

HE can't mean it.

"Go back, boy. Vincent! Back!"

He turns back to Pretty Lady. He is hers now. She promised HIM.

"_But Walt…. Others."_

Vincent knows what he's saying. He wonders what HE hears as HE is floating away.

"Shhh…" Pretty Lady scratches his shoulders, his back. "It's okay, boy. It's okay."


	5. 15 Sentences: James

_Note: For those on the site who grew up with cell phones, learning to dial used to be a big deal and you didn't generally do so until after you were in school. And also, this is my first attempt at a story that has as many sentences as the character's 'number' on the show, so... 15 sentences for James._

* * *

He's dialed a phone before, but never by himself.

His momma stood behind him the other times, patiently moving his left index finger over the grey squares on the keypad, a smile in her voice, her head dipping down to give him a kiss, to praise her sweet, smart, beautiful boy.

First she shows him his aunt and uncle's number until he has it down, a pattern he can remember without her.

The second number is easier, much shorter.

"It's almost brand new, James, born the same year as you."

"Nine," he says, his finger hovering over the keys as he shakes her hand off, showing her he can do it alone, "one, one."

"You can remember that, right baby?"

That was two years ago and they hadn't practiced since, but he was eight now and dialing wasn't the problem.

"9-1-1 operator, what is your emergency?" James heard the lady's voice on the other end of the line and opened his mouth to talk, but at first nothing came out.

"I need…" he stops, sucks in a deep breath and goes on. "I need help. My daddy shot... someone… needs to come here."

The lady tells him to stay on the line, and he does but he doesn't say anything more, just stares at his mom lying three feet away on the living room floor, at his dad's boots barely visible where he fell in James' bedroom, and it hits him this may be the last time he'll ever see them again.

It's also the last time he'll say those words, because he's decided – he'll never, ever let himself need anyone again.


	6. 23 Sentences: Ben and Juliet

"You've got three minutes," Jack had warned, but Juliet knew as she took a seat next to Ben that whatever he had to say wouldn't take that long.

Ben always found a way to compose his thoughts, even when his world was crumbling. It was collapsing fast now, Ben flat out on his stomach with his lower back held open by forceps, his sabotaged body dying from what Jack had just done to him.

"How's your day going?" Juliet murmured it, arms crossed, quirking out a sharp smile at the way her words made Ben chuckle under the bar holding his head to the surgical table.

"If you help them," Ben got to the point, said it slowly, drawing 'help' into four syllables, and that made Juliet smile for real. "If you get his friends free, I will send you home on the sub. If you let me live, you will meet your nephew … very soon."

This she hadn't expected at all. Juliet felt herself fold in half, gasping at the tears in her eyes and at how fast they'd sprung up.

"Do you really think it's been my choice keeping you here?" Ben sounded annoyed at her reaction. "Jacob wants you here, and he might even kill me for letting you go. But that is down the road and it is negotiable while this is…. well, very imminent."

"If you're screwing with me," Juliet stared at him under her hands, sobbing, trying to hide her face from Jack and Tom in the window upstairs. "I swear to God, Ben…"

"I haven't wanted you here since the week you told me you loved me and then took it back," Ben said, and then there was a huge, aching pause. "Why did you take it back?"

"Because what you love you smother," she said. She saw Ben chuckle again, giving her the point.

"I thought that was your thing: Being under a strong man's thumb. I guess… I was misinformed."

Juliet stood, headed toward the door.

"I'll just go get them on their way, then, okay?"

"By all means," Ben said, "Thank you, Jules."


	7. 23 Sentences: David Shephard

Jack shook the whole time he was in the hospital staff locker room changing from his scrubs to his civvies, noticing how it made the whole process a hell of a lot slower.

"You don't have a son, Jack," his patient had told him, and though the words were absurd, impossible, he sounded so… _sure_ of himself it had rattled Jack.

He has a son. David is thirteen. David is a biblical name. It means "Beloved" and that's why he'd picked it, because he loves him so much it hurts, even the days he knows David thinks God hates him for having given him this dad.

David is beloved to him and to Kate, he belongs to them.

Who in the hell is Kate?

He's in his car when the thought hits.

It's so completely, terrifyingly disorienting that he doesn't notice running a red light until he's well past it.

David belongs to him and Juliet.

Except he doesn't belong to her, never did. He knows better now. David is his with Kate.

Who the hell is Kate?

"No, that's not how you know me." The woman in the little black dress is smiling at him, eyes full of a love rich with shared hurt and separation.

She reaches, touches his face.

"I've missed you _so_ much."

It hits him as he's walking toward the back entrance to the church: That's Kate, that's David's mom but she can't be because Juliet… John, that's why John didn't know, John was already dead, it's not his fault…

Jack died, too. Before David was born.

He pushes at the back door of the church, watches it pop open, feeling so alone but knowing it's the last time.

He'll never be alone again.


	8. 8 Sentences for Kate on a Helicopter

"Why are you telling me this?"

Kate feels her voice shaking, feels James whispering secrets to her until the very second he's gone, diving off of the helicopter with a shit-eating grin.

"As soon as we get to the boat, we'll go back for him," Jack says, and she knows he means it just as much as she knows it'll never happen.

That's when it hits her how truly screwed she is, how much they both love her and she loves them, and the degree to which neither of them will ever understand, won't get what they all mean to each other.

Sawyer is gone. Sawyer has a daughter named Clementine in Albuquerque who needs her help, and Kate's pretty sure she knows Clem's mom.

Kate sees Jack searching her frozen face for clues, for hope of his own in the ten freaking seconds they've all had to digest this.

She prays she's managed to hide what she's just realized: That she is well and officially screwed for the rest of her time on the planet.


	9. 8 Sentences: The Second Shift

"I'll take the first shift," John said, and Sayid, Kate and Hurley practically bolted from the hatch, so visibly happy to get the hell out of there.

His first few hours inside were busy, happy ones— cataloguing the place, enjoying the heavenly pleasure of a shower that was memorable even if the water was lukewarm and redolent of undercooked eggs.

Hour eight it hit him: No one ever said who exactly who would relieve him or _when_, or _if_, and God, please…. he couldn't do this alone.

The release from doubt that came with the heavy, metallic sound of the side door down the hall opening was a pleasure; the feet tapping their way down the stairs right after that were a joy, and as for the sight of Jack walking into the computer room, well, that was almost _too_ much.

"This is not me agreeing with your messed up world view, I just… I need some peace, a few hours awake where no one is _at_ me, so… go get some rest," Jack tossed his backpack down, sitting at the computer, conversation over.

It was raining, and all the way back to the beach John breathed in the scents of mud and ocean and the leaves under his feet, and layered under them were hope and life and… sentience.

It was a potion so strong he didn't have time to think about Jack again until he was almost home, but when he did think of him it was with a smile because he knew –-eventually Jack would believe. He was too smart _not_ to get it.


End file.
